It's The Thought That Counts
by The Satyricon
Summary: Harley Quinn had a wonderful Valentine's Day planned, but The Joker had other plans...THIRD in the JHQ series by The Satyr Icon...Be kind, review kindly!


**Title:** It's The Thought That Counts

**Author: **The Satyr Icon

**Permission to Archive: **You only have to ask

**Category: **JHQ

**Genre:** Romance / Hetro

**Rating:** Very Hard R

**Summary:** Harley had a wonderful Valentine's Day planned; The Joker had other plans.

**Keywords: **Joker, Harley, Valentine's Day Contest

**Spoilers: **None, set after "Mad Love"

**Word Count: **2032

**Disclaimer:** The Joker and Harley Quinn are property of DC Comics; I am just writing for fun, and if I owned them, all would be good and clean in the World.

**It's The Thought That Counts**

** Prologue **

He couldn't believe it.

"Laurence Coady?"

Laurence blinked, nodded his head at the man in the oddly familiar fedora and trench coat in the doorway asking him the question. Then he realized who that person _was_, laughter came from under the brim, and suddenly Laurence's world went _black_...

** Chapter One **

"WHERE THE HELL IS MY PUDDIN'?"

It was Valentine's Day...well, Valentine's Night, according to the darkness in the where house/hideout. Harley Quinn rubbed the sleep from her eyes, looked at the clock, and what she thought would be the most wonderful of days spent with her Puddin' was instead spent watching the hours slide by; there were just a few minutes left in the day. She spent her free-time leading up to Valentine's Day on the sly; without any cash or credit cards, she marched into supermarkets and Hallmark stores and slipped out with candies and cards and other assorted nifty gifties that her ten-fingered discount allowed. She planned a sump-dili-lump-ious breakfast after some lovin', maybe a lunchie and some sex, sex before dinner, sex before more sex.

"I HAD A DAY OF SEX PLANNED!"

Early that morning, just after sun up, she had woke up alone in bed. Nothing particularly new, but since it was Valentine's Day Morning, she figured that her lovey-dovey had slipped out to get her some donuts and coffee, like she did everyday for him. "He's so sweet not to wake me up! I LOVE HIM!" she yelled to the ceiling. "I love him, I love him, I love My sexy wexy killa clown!" She sang ten more choruses, dancing around in sheets. Then she relaxed on the bed, waiting, waiting, waiting, to hear his yell for her, and she decided she'd fake being asleep, and let him rouse her. "Mmm, I loves Me My Puddin's rousing stick!"

Harley waited, and waited and waited. "I wonder where Puddin's at?" She whispered to herself while she looked at the old-fashioned clock on the makeshift nightstand: the hands inside on the clock indicated the time to be 11 AM. Four hours since she woke up and first looked at the time. Four hours without the Clown Prince of Crime, The Joker, on Valentine's Day! Four hours without her maniac of a mate, her lunatic lover, and right now, in Harley Quinn's warped mind, she totaled up four hours of no kisses, no hugging, no loving!

"DAMN IT TO HELL!"

In true Harley-scorned fashion, she kicked off the sheets, jumped to her feet, and hopped on the bed, hopped on his side of the bed, until she heard a bedspring _sproing_. "That'll poke him in the ass..." she smiled, arms folded over her breasts, and nodded at her image in the cracked mirror. Then she thought of him poking her in the ass, and she fell on her ass-cheeks and pouted. And sat on the bed. Waiting. Finally, prompted by her tummy rumbling and the need to pee, she finally got off the bed. She looked at the time: 2 PM.

Harley grabbed one of The Joker's gray old tank tops and pulled it down her torso. She slipped on a tiny thong, and slid into a fuzzy pink robe, and walked to the bathroom. 'Yup,' she thought, 'no kisses, no hugging, no loving!' She kicked open their bathroom door (private for her and The Joker; she never went into the gang's bathroom) "NOTHING FOR HIM!" She tore down her undies and sat down. But her lover left the seat UP and she fell into the toilet bowl, her peachy-toned ass getting soaked, her toes wiggling, her knees eye-level.

"MOTHERFUCK!"

Then Harley giggled. And that giggle became a laugh that continued until she was crying with glee; she remembered what her Puddin' said: "_America will have a female president as soon as every women checks to see if the toilet seat is down...if women bitch about the seat being up, can you IMAGINE how they will bitch in office?_ "

"Maybe he has a good reason," She whispered and wiped her eyes. She peed, flushed, washed up (something she was trying to get The Joker to do consistently) and smiled at her babies, Bud and Lou. The hyenas seemingly giggled at how she moped to the kitchen/food area. She fed the boys a huge steak each, and grinned at the babies fighting for the third one she tossed at them. Harley looked at the "Famous Comedians of Yesteryear" calendar, looked at the marked off the days, big fat red X's in the dated square, every day until the X was one day closer to Valentine's Day, but the smiles that she wore at the beginning of the month were gone now. She opened the fridge door, happy no kid was dead in it like before, and pulled out a yogurt bottle.

"Bleh." Instead of swallowing gobs of Joker Jizz (she flinched; he didn't like that her name for his ejaculations, and expressed his distaste with a flurry of slaps), she swallowed a huge gulp pretending it was from her lover, not from Yoplait. She played with it, trying to get it the same consistency (the pineapple yogurt already had the right color). But the satiny smoothness made her wish for the real thing. With a sigh, she set aside the yogurt and frumped her way to the bedroom. "Today sucks, and I'm NOT," she cried into her pillow. She rolled over to hug his pillow. _Sproing_.

"Eep!" She cried and rubbed her ass. The bedspring got her. "You're not what I want pokin' mah butt!" She roared, and slapped down on the spring. _Sproing_. She cried out again and stomped to the main room. She flopped on the couch, curled and closed her eyes. It was just 5 PM.

She looked at the clock again. It was 11:45 PM. Still no Joker, still no sex, and still no nothing. She closed her eyes again.

** Chapter Two**

"Some PEOPLE call me the space cowboy... YEAH! Some call me the gangster of looooooooooove," The Joker sang while he walked through the hideout's not-so-concealed entry. "Some people call me MO-rice...Cause I speak... of the pompitous... of loooooooove." He flung his fedora off, stopped, heard it hit and hook onto a horn on the hat pole in the corner. His dance-steps was slow, despite the cheery, manic sing-song lilt of his voice. At first, he didn't even see his lover, laying on her tummy, her ass looking so tantalizingly, on the couch while he slowly ambled into the bedroom. Then, like a gem sparkling in a bedrock, her bottom caught his eye. He twirled and danced over to the side of the couch, and slid the stained glove off his hand. He flattened to a palm, spat and rubbed the spit around, and he raised it high over his head.

"Wakey wakey, sleepy face..." He slapped her ass hard, and gripped and shook the cheek for good measure.

Harley's eyes shot open; it wasn't Happy Dream Time, but Mad Harley Time. She shot up from the couch, and The Joker spread his arms wide for his crazy-babygirl, but instead of a crushing hug, she beat him on his chest, breaking the poison-launching boutonnière on his lapel.

"Where the hell were you? Why were you gone? It's Valentine's Day! I WAS WORRIED YOU WERE BACK IN ARKHAM!"

The inhuman smile that dominated his face slipped into a frown, the corners of his mouth almost pushed off his jaw. He blinked, sputtered, and stumbled back at her barrage.

"I HAD THINGS PLANNED! I SPENT DAYS...WEEKS WONDERING WHAT TO GET YOU!" Harley screeched like a harpy, and went into the bedroom, dragging the Clown Prince of Screw-ups with her. He was almost scared. He almost couldn't look at her ass. Almost.

She shoved him against the wall. "STAY THERE!" Her eyes raged and The Joker nodded, but loved the way her eyebrow twitched, how her mouth was a snarl. Adding in the fact that she was in a tank top and a thong, and He was even more in love with her.

"Harlllllllllllllllllleeeee...Baby..." The Joker said smoothly, genuflecting, trying to get her to calm down just a bit.

"This is what I got you!" She yelled, dug out bags of chocolate kisses and candies, and flung them back at him. A plush clown was ripped apart and tossed.

"Ow! Hershey's hurt! Stop!" He whimpered, rubbing his chest where he was hit. "Stop!" He screamed like a pansy watching more bags flying at him, dodging big bags of sweetness. A bag of Kisses shattered above him, and red-foiled drops pelted him on the head. Suddenly, colorful envelopes filled with cards whizzed past him.

"I got cramps in My hand writing poems and stuff for you on those cards, you JERK!" Harley spit out. "And I was going to wear this!" The Joker watched her spin and show him a new red and black corset, undies, garter and stockings. She then threw them to the floor and stomped on them. "Now? Forget it!"

"HAR-LEY!"

Usually that word, said by him, would freeze her in her tracks. But now, she kept stomping. The Joker rushed up to her and reached back. Harley closed her eyes, and readied herself to get slapped. She winced; getting backhanded was the worst.

"I didn't forget."

** Chapter Three **

Harley Quinn opened her eyes and saw The Joker reaching into his vest, and pulling out a crumpled-up white envelope. He offered it slowly, a slight grin slashed across his face, eyes pleading. Harley had never seen him like this before with her, The Batman maybe, but not her.

"It's your Valentine card..."

Snatching from his hand, Harley ripped open the envelope, eager to see what he...her Puddin' again, got her. She pulled out a bloodstained ID card, looked at it and The Joker oddly. She wiped away the droplets of blood that congealed on the laminated card, seeing the picture of the man and read the name...Laurence Coady...the name...of a guy that hurt her when she was younger.

Harley's mind reeled to a time..._when she honestly didn't know her smiles could get her in trouble. She thought of the date with Laurence, how they "parked", how she touched him, and how she let him touch her...but he wanted more, and she didn't want to go farther. Then things got scary, and caresses got rougher, more like slaps and punches, and her ponytail was yanked down and instead of his lips on her mouth, there was something else that was rubbed on her lips, and that sick demand of "suck it." The punches rained on her back and they stopped when she started sucking. luckily, she barely started when he moaned and her mouth was filled with his all-too-sudden climax. He relaxed, and she lifted her head an spit his orgasm into his face, and she escaped, running all the way home, wishing someday that he would be dead. She cried on her bed, hugging her teddy-bear, wishing someone could take care of her, not hurt her, someone to kill him for her. Someone powerful, someone smart, someone that cared, and if that man entered her life, she'd do anything for him, happily. She would be his girl, because she'd want to be his, not because she was forced. She would tell him all her secrets and all her desires, and all the names of people that hurt her and made her cry._

"He moved...had to track him down," The Joker explained.

"You remembered, Mistah J?" Harley looked at her lover. The sentiment of the gift overwhelmed her. He thought of her, what would please her, and that counted for so much to her.

"You're more than My Valentine..." The Clown said, and pulled his weeping girl to him, and with a tenderness that belied his reputation, embraced her. She was already nodding her head, already agreeing with what he was going to say. "You're Mine, kiddo."

End


End file.
